


uneasy hearts weigh the most

by difficultheart



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader is a hair stylist, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, frankly i have no idea what i'm doing with this, i guess ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/difficultheart/pseuds/difficultheart
Summary: Your relationship with Shizuo Heiwajima was built on a foundation of careful, casual lies. Once a month, he came to your apartment and pretended like he didn’t know how to bleach his roots without your help, and you pretended like you didn’t know he’d been doing it himself for years before he met you.





	uneasy hearts weigh the most

Your relationship with Shizuo Heiwajima was built on a foundation of careful, casual lies. Once a month, he came to your apartment and pretended like he didn’t know how to bleach his roots without your help, and you pretended like you didn’t know he’d been doing it himself for years before he met you. The appointments were always filled with long, awkward silence and annoyed grunts when you got too talkative or asked too many questions. But you looked forward to his visits, and he pretended he didn’t know that seeing him was the best part of your month.

Six months into the arrangement, something changed. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. But his shoulders were tense when you carefully brushed the bleach mixture into his hair, and he couldn’t quite look you in the eye. You tried to make up for it with cheerful conversation, carefully sweeping his hair back from his face to get at the roots there.  
“So, how’s the job been treating you?” you asked, pushing his head back at a better angle. 

“It’s… the same.” His voice was gruff, and he closed his eyes as you brushed the mixture into dark roots. “Can’t complain.”

“I don’t think you ever told me what you do!” 

A long, tense silence stretched between you, and the chair you’d dragged into the kitchen for him to sit in creaked as his grip tightened on the arms. 

“I’m a bodyguard.” 

“Oh!” You really had not expected him to answer, and you can’t help but smile at this unexpected turn of events. “That’s nice. Do you just work as a contractor, or…?”

“No.” He was gritting his teeth, you could tell. But he wasn’t throwing anything, and he hadn’t told you to shut up yet. Perhaps, you thought, it was time to bail out before you actually annoyed him. “Just one steady client.”

You hummed, finishing up with the bleach and taking a step back. Shizuo opened his eyes, and you could feel the weight of his gaze as you turned to throw away your gloves and set up the timer. The atmosphere in the room had quickly gotten tense, and you weren’t entirely sure how to fix whatever damage you had caused with your innate nosiness. 

“Well,” you said, turning back to him with a bright, forced smile. “Business has been good for me lately. Kasuka mentioned in an interview that I’d been styling his hair, and I have a lot of potential clients to show my portfolio to.”

Relief was palpable on Shizuo’s face as you pretended like the entire awkward conversation hadn’t happened, and he visibly relaxed in the chair before grunting in response.  
Kasuka had been the one to introduce you to his brother, and you had been very adamant about your ability to keep a secret when Shizuo had turned his simmering anger at you. Honestly, you had been convinced that the older Heiwajima would have it out for you once you’d been privy to his relationship to Kasuka. Instead, he’d shown up at your door a few days later and offered a frankly absurd sum of money for you to do his hair.

You’d told him you didn’t charge for such an easy job, and the first of many little white lies had been laid as the foundation of whatever it was you had with him. 

The silence following was much more companionable as you placed a shower cap over his hair and pushed yourself up to sit on the counter and wait for the timer to go off. Shizuo closed his eyes and dozed off in his chair, and you hummed to yourself, reading gossip articles on your phone and pretending you didn’t know he was listening. 

Shizuo was first to stand when the timer went off, and you scrambled to hop off the kitchen counter and follow him to the bathroom. He’d dragged the chair in after him, and you guided his head to rest on the edge of the sink carefully after he sat down. Rinsing his hair was always your favorite part. Shizuo leaned into your touch like a big, lazy cat, pleased hums soft at the back of his throat when you gently massaged his scalp and slicked wet hair back from his forehead. The reminder that even the strongest man in Ikebukuro had a soft, vulnerable side always made your chest feel warm and light. You shut off the water, reaching for the towel you’d set out, but Shizuo stopped you by gently grabbing your wrist.

Breath catching in your throat, you froze. His fingers were warm and calloused and his touch so gentle and careful. You swallowed a lump in your throat and looked down at him. 

“I, uh.” He cleared his throat, averting his gaze. You realized, very suddenly, that he was embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Self-preservation flying out the window, you leaned closer to him and quirked an eyebrow.

“What are you apologizing for?”

“You were just being friendly earlier,” he said. His fingers tightened around your wrist for a moment before he let go. “Sorry I was rude.”

“Oh.” You blinked, openly staring at him. “Shizuo, you don’t have to apologize for that. I was prying when I shouldn’t have. Don’t worry about it.” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but you draped the towel over his head before he could say it (and before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks). There was an annoyed grunt, but he relaxed when you lifted his head back up and gently dried his hair. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap, but he remained obediently still until you pulled back and draped the towel over his shoulders. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the sight of his damp hair sticking out at odd angles. 

From there, it was business as usual. Shizuo ruffled his hair until it fell back into place, and you cleaned up the remaining supplies. He slipped his sunglasses back on and went to leave, but paused at the door. You looked up from wiping down the counter, brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at you. It took him a few tries, but he finally managed to vocalize his thoughts. 

“Thank you,” he said, “for doing this for me. I appreciate it.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Please continue to take care of Kasuka.”

“I… okay?” You were beyond confused now. Shizuo usually just left without another word, walked out of your life until the following month. “You really don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” he grunted. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he opened the door. “… And be careful when you’re in Ikebukuro.”

The door had already clicked shut behind him by the time your brain started working again, and you stared at the space he’d been standing in moments previously.

Something was wrong with Shizuo Heiwajima. And you intended to find out what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i really need to get past my block on that jojo fic and update
> 
> also me: hey remember that crush you've had on shizuo heiwajima for like seven years now
> 
> i literally have no excuse. i just have a lot of feelings about shizuo. there's no set update schedule for this, and i just sort of wrote it off the cuff when i was winding down from my daily nanowrimo writing.
> 
> please enjoy this self-indulgent fluff.


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